Pale-eyed Spellsword
by dmitchrob1999
Summary: The story of an adventurer with a one mismatched eye. A pale yellow eye with a slit pupil. All he wants is to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
1. Waking from the Dream

The same dream. Night after night, the same dream, but always different. Different endings. Some sad, some better than reality.

The dream always starts the same: a boy of 10 hiding in a pile of rotting, filthy guts. Not his guts, though; these were the guts of slaughtered livestock. Cows, chickens, pigs: the animals someone would see on a normal farm. The boy watches through a small gap as his village, his home, is destroyed before his eyes. They always talked about what they would do once it happened, but the boy never truly thought it would. Why would it?

The adults weren't adventurers, but they were strong. They had to be, here. The village was small and survived by working as one creature with many souls and heartbeats.

The retired adventurer trained the strongest in basic swordsmanship. He trained the weaker in archery. That's all he knew. He was a fighter, in both close and long range. He retired because of an injury to his leg. It was hard for him to move without a cane or walking stick.

The training may as well have been useless. The numbers, by the Gods, the numbers. They seemed to have no end. What were these things that mercilessly slaughtered and defiled anything unlucky enough to be in their path? The weakest of the monsters: goblins. The boy was always told that goblins were weak, but to always kill one if he saw one. The retired adventurer had always reminded him, "Where there's one goblin, at least a dozen more are nearby."

He always believed the adventures advice to be nonsense, until that night. He had only minutes to hide beneath the gutting house floor. That's what always called the small shed where they gutted the animals. He quickly hid beneath the floor through the small hatch his father would through guts through. He had to fight his urge to retch, for fear the goblins would hear.

Then, he saw the small gap in the wood. He slowly crept toward it, telling hisself to stay away, not to look through. Not to watch the horror. He didn't listen to his own warnings and watched, watched as his family, his friends, his entire life was destroyed before his very eyes. He saw the other villagers fighting a hopeless, futile battle. To him, the dozens of goblins seemed like hundreds, thousands even. Then he spotted his mother, surrounded, injured, bloody and almost beaten. Then, as if out of thin air, a goblin struck the back of her head. She fell, helpless to the goblins. She knew what would happen if they took her away, all the women did. With what little strength she had left, she cut her own throat, to save herself from the hell of being a plaything to the goblins. Before she died, she uttered a silent prayer to the Gods. She begged them to let her children live. As she uttered her last prayer, she spotted the gutting house and, below the shed, the gap through which her son watched, unknowing that he watched her final moments.

As he watched her die, he saw the goblins, tearing at his mother's clothing, not caring that she was now nothing but dead flesh. He couldn't take his eyes away, even while they defiled her corpse. Shortly after, he heard his father's anguished wail. This was a sound foreign to the boy's ears. This was a sound that frightened him. This was a sound that he didn't know his father could make. The he saw. He saw his father running to his fallen wife, the only women he had ever lain with, the love of his life. He tried to pull the goblins off her. He tried. He tried. He tried. No matter how many he pulled of, more would just replace them. Then, in a moment that lasted hours, the boy saw his father, the man he believed to be invincible, struck down, killed, like nothing more than an animal. The boy fainted, silently weeping for the parents he would never be able to hug again.

The boy had awakened hours later to a silent village. He lay still, not moving, not making a single sound. He stayed this way for several minutes, listening for anything else. Anything, a scream, a whimper, the footsteps of a creature the size of a child, but more dangerous than a person could think. He heard only silence.

A boy, no more than 10, crawled out of a hidden door in a small shed that smelled of death. A boy, no more than 10, covered in the blood of animals, animals slaughtered so that they may survive. The boy thanked the long dead creatures, whose sacrifice saved him by hiding his stench from the horde of monsters.

He walked throughout the remains of his home, looking at those who lay dead in the soil that gave them food. The retired adventurer, surrounded by dead goblins, dead and bloody on the ground. His walking stick flung away, useless. What use was the training now? It was a hopeless endeavor. He wandered through the village, counting those who died. He searched, frantically, for one small corpse. He knew if he didn't find her corpse, she had become nothing more than breeding stock for goblins. Now matter how he much he searched, he couldn't find her. He knew what had happened even before he came to terms with it; the goblins had taken his little sister. The little sister he promised to always protect.

The boy no longer cared about anything except saving his little sister. He ran to his hidden stache. He had hidden leather armor and a small blade so he could practice fighting alone. The armor was old and the blade was chipped, but he vowed to save his sister. He put on the armor and grasped the blade with a deep rage burning within. A rage, noticed by something more than mortal; a minor God.

A God who cared for all women and girls and wanted nothing but to protect them.

This was a God who had fallen for a mortal woman. He did all he could to help her, keep her safe. Even if he did all he could, he couldn't protect her from those born for evil. The God watched as the woman he loved, taken and defiled by goblins. Even as she begged, prayed for death, there was nothing he could do. At that moment, he vowed to find a mortal who shared his hatred for goblins and desire to protect the weak, mainly the women who were unable to protect themselves against any threat. It was that night that he felt a hatred deep as his own, and only able to grow. It was then that he took control of this child's destiny.

The boy followed then tracks left by the goblins. He followed them all the way to the stinking, filthy cave that the goblins had made their nest. Without a second thought, he entered the nest.

He knew that he would most likely fall in this cave, unable to save his sister. All he wanted was a chance to save her, nothing more. He walked on, cautious of every shadow, every noise, every echo. He had already encountered his first goblin. A small, miserable creature. A creature that deserved only pain and death. It couldn't hear him. He had trained hisself to walk quietly, only to scare the others villagers. He had no friends, he and his sister were the only children in the village of barely 50.

He crept up on the goblin and, as quietly as possible, plunged his only blade into it's back, aiming, from behind, at its heart. A lucky hit, piercing the creature's heart, killing it near instantly. The boy couldn't pull his blade out, so he did the only thing he could think of; he took the dead goblin's blade.

As he traversed deeper into the nest, a goblin went for an ambush behind him. He would have had his skull crushed in, if not for voice in his head, telling him to duck and move to the side. The boy listened to voice. He quickly realizes that this voice was not of his own mind. The goblins blade passed over his head close enough for him to feel the air move, to see the filth on the goblins hand. He blindly lashed out, getting lucky and slashing the goblins throat. He knew that if he had ignored the voice, he would have died there and then.

As the boy went on, he encountered more and more goblins, yet something was amiss. His body moved, as if by some unseen force, hidden knowledge or, most likely, by nothing but pure animal instinct. He felt as though something were watching him, helping him, protecting him until he could save his sister. He was not unscathed, though. Often, he would misjudge the attacks by microseconds , but those few microseconds caused him to sustain injuries that, while not currently life threatening, would scar his head for life.

By the time he found his sister, his scalp was hanging off in ragged flaps. He played these injuries no mind, as he had enough options to keep him moving. Potions he took from his old house, made by his own mother. What he had lay his eyes upon was not his little sister, who had eyes filled with the curiosity of youth, a smile that warmed even the coldest of hearts and who would hug her loved ones with unbridled joy. What he saw was a girl who has been defiled and tortured countless times in matter of hours. Arms and legs broken to prevent fighting or fleeing. Eyes, destroyed to so she couldn't find the exit. Blood, spilled everywhere. This girl, who used to be his sister, kept begging, saying only three words, "Please, kill me."

There was nothing he could do for her now but fulfill her last request. He took the small knife he took from a dead goblin, and walked up to his sister. Before he plunged the blade into her heart he spoke his last to his last remaining family.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I love you."

With those final words, he released his sister from her living hell. As he plunged the blade into her heart, he woke up, eyes wide open, breathing heavily and quietly sobbing. He lay there, in the tavern, as the man he now was, thinking only one thing. "Of all the endings to that dream, that one is still one of the only good ones."

He then put his armor on and then went to see what requests were available. He was an adventurer with a scarred head and a mismatched eye, a pale yellow eye with a slit pupil, unlike his normal, brown, human eye.


	2. Past and Present

As the spellsword came down from the room, he spotted the party he has been adventuring with for the past two and a half years. He had come to think of them as more than just party members, even if he hisself hadn't realized it until only a little more than a year ago. He had started to think of them as his only friends. He couldn't think of the priestesses at the temple as friends, because to him they were family. How could he not think of them as family when he lived there for 5 years after that night? They watched over him, taught him, cared for a filthy, blood covered, injured child who just showed up in the village. The head priestess took him in without hesitation, even if some of the others told her it was a bad idea. She didn't care what they said: she had sworn to help anyone who came to the temple, regardless of who they were or whether they were human or not. In time, the others had come to think of the child as something akin to a brother; the older ones thought of him as a little brother to be protected and helped, while the younger ones thought of him as an older brother who needed to be comforted and loved the only way a younger sister could. Soon after arriving at the temple, the child had come to think of the priestesses as sisters, with the exception of the head priestess. He thought of her as a mother. He made a silent promise to hisself: he would do all he could to protect them.

Many of the other adventurers would ask him why he had stayed at the temple, why he wasn't adopted by anyone. The reason no one adopted him was always quite simple and the same: they were frightened of him. Of course they were frightened of the child. The first thing he said when he arrived at the village was, "They killed everyone, but I made sure that they suffered the same fate." When asked who "they" were, he would only respond with, "The ones who killed everyone." Soon rumors about the child had spread. Many of the villagers had started to say that the boy was some kind of monster in disguise and that he killed everyone in his village. Others said that he was possessed by the ghost of an adventurer who died defending a village from bandits. Only one person knew the truth: the head priestess. She had heard a child crying and followed the crying to the boy's room and found him having some kind of nightmare. She went to his bedside and tried to comfort him. He woke up minutes later, nearly screaming. When he had seen the head priestess, the first thing he did was hug her and bury his face in her robes. She held him like that for awhile before asking him what he had been dreaming about. He told her everything. He was having no nightmare, he was reliving the night he had seen his village killed, destroyed. The head priestess listened closely, knowing that any comfort she tried to give would be hollow. How could she comfort the boy, now knowing what he had went through. Once he had finished telling her about that night, she said the only words that she thought would help,

"It's okay now. They're no longer in pain and you have another family now. All of us at the temple can be your new family. You're not alone anymore. You have new sisters who all love you."

The boy responded with, "If they're my new sisters, can you be my new mama?"

The priestess hugged him tighter and whispered, " Of course I can. You can call me mama, mom or mother. Just remember that no matter how long or how far you travel, this temple will always be a place you can come back to. You'll always be welcomed back with open arms."

From then on, he knew that he would always have a place to come back to and people to call a family. He had a second home. He would make sure that his second home would not suffer the same fate as his first. He would become an adventurer and do his best to prevent another tragedy like that.

Nearly three years after he swore to protect his new family, the boy was given a chance to prove he was able to fulfill his promise.

His new life at the temple was fairly routine, but the boy didn't mind. Every day he would wake up before the sun itself began to peek over the horizon and get to work on his daily chores. Even though he wasn't a worshipper at the temple, he would always work diligently to make sure it was near spotless. He felt as if he owed this to his sisters and mother for always being kind and patient with him. By the time the rest of the temple was waking up, he would have most of the temple cleaned enough to see his own reflection on the floor. Once he was done with his morning cleaning, he would start to prepare breakfast. Even though he always started the preparations alone, some of his sisters would trickle in and help him. They would always tell him to sleep in at least occasionally and take more than one day off from his morning routine. He never listens. Once breakfast is ready and everyone is together, the temple would say a chant, thanking the Gods for the life, friends and family they have. The entire temple ate breakfast together, always.

After breakfast, the boy would go all over the village, performing any and all odd jobs he could. Most days were the same: chop wood for whoever needed wood, help some local shopkeeper prepare his or her store, sharpen the butchers knives, sometimes delivering products from the blacksmith to the customer, etc., etc. After doing however many odd jobs, he would always go and practice his swordsmanship with either the local guard captain or an adventurer who frequently visited the temple to pray. No matter which he trained with, his mother would always watch from the side, just in case the boy was injured. Both the guard captain and the adventurer would comment on his technique, saying that he was quite skilled for his age. They would notice his determination to improve and push the boy as far as they thought he could go, but they were always surprised. Unbeknownst to them, the boy would practice for an hour before dinner every night. The priestesses never let him help with dinner, not because of his daily routine, but because, for some reason, he just couldn't prepare dinner, even though he could prepare breakfast. The boy would always go to bed shortly after dinner so he could wake up the same time the next day.

One day, shortly after he finished cleaning the temple, the boy went on a short patrol around the temple. During the night, he had heard noises outside. The noises didn't sound human to him. He knew it couldn't be a dwarf or an elf; the only time a dwarf or elf was in the village was when they were passing through. These noises sounded like some… things were sneaking around the temple, scouting. While on his patrol, he came across small footprints, inhuman, child-sized footprints. He knew what kind of creatures made footprints such as these. He knew from experience exactly what creatures had made these footprints: goblins. He learned a little about goblins from the adventurer who trained him. The only reason these footprints would be here is because the goblins were about to attack. He then heard the voice that saved him for the first time since that night. What the voice said to the boy frightened him in a way he hasn't felt since that night.

"You have to stop the attack before it happens," are the words that turned his core to ice.

He tried to tell the voice that he wasn't ready, that he was nothing more than a child. He said that there was nothing he could do to stop this attack. The voice brought up what he had done after the attack, when he was no more than ten.

"That was nothing more than luck," the boy whispered in both consideration for the sleeping village, and in fear. But he knew he had no choice but to go. There wasn't enough time to put in a request at the adventurers guild. Even if he could put one in, he knew only inexperienced adventurers would take it. He also knew that they would die. The adventurer who trains the boy told him that goblins, though the weakest monsters, were one of the most dangerous, due to sheer numbers and the fact that they were always underestimated. The boy was more qualified than the novice adventurers who would be walking towards their deaths. He had to stop an attack by goblins, single-handedly. All he could foresee was his own death, but he started his preparations anyways. He took whatever little money he had saved up and went to buy equipment and supplies.

The first place the boy went was the blacksmiths. He needed to buy some armor and a weapon. When he told the blacksmith he needed a weapon and armor, the blacksmith started asking him why a boy would need these things. The boy, bad at lying, gave a story that was, technically, true. He had said that his trainers, the guard captain and adventurer, were helping him with combat training and that he needed better equipment to train with. The boy had wanted a full suit of armor and a longsword. The blacksmith had a better idea,

"No, a kid your size, full suit of armor and a heavy longsword? Bad idea. Too slow and too heavy. You'd want some leather armor with some chainmail underneath. I know that this don't matter to you, but chainmail's good against arrows. Maybe a wooden buckler for blockin'. As for a weapon, an archer's shortsword'll probably work for you. It's smaller than a longsword, lighter, faster, you have a free arm for a shield and it just makes more sense for a kid your size. Also, all this stuffs cheaper than what you want. I'll also throw in this helmet for you. No one wants it, but I don't want it to go to waste. You see this part here? The part that protects your jaw and neck? I made it to where it can come off. Helps with cleaning, and I just wanted to test my skill. Tell you what, seeing as how you often you help me, and how you're a good kid, I'll just give it to you, free of charge.

At first the boy started to refuse, but then remembered what he needed to do. He graciously thanked the blacksmith, then left quickly for the apothecary lady's. He knew he would need some antidotes. Goblins coated their arrows in a crude, yet effective, poison made from their own waste. He hurried to his next destination, all the while planning how to take out the goblin nest.

The boy immediately entered the apothecary's when he saw her shop. Without hesitation, he told the apothecary that he needed some antidotes that work against basic poisons. Naturally, the apothecary had questions. The biggest and most important question being why a child would need antidotes. The boy knew he had to lie, even though he hated it. He had always hated lying, but he didn't really know exactly why.

"An adventurer asked me to buy her some bottles of antidote. She didn't know where you were so I told her I'd go."

Mere moments after the words escaped his lips, the boy felt horrible. To him, lying was one of the worst things a person could do, even if they were trying to help you. No matter what, he would always prefer the harsh truth to a sweet lie. But it had worked. The apothecary lady believed him and gave him five bottles of antidote.

"That's five bottles of antidote for twenty five copper coins," she said while getting the bottles.

The boy had enough money for her. After taking the antidotes, the boy quickly thanked her and left. Now all he had to do was wait. He was ready. He was as ready as he could of possibly been, given the likelihood of his death.

No one at the temple had seen the boy all day. They frantically searched the entire temple at first, then had started to search the village, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen a young boy of about thirteen with a scarred head and mismatched eyes. Everyone they asked said that they saw him everyday, but that they hadn't seen him doing any odd jobs today. Most of the villagers thought the boys absence was unusual and unnerving, considering what had happened to him.

As the rest of the priestesses were asking the villagers if they knew anything, the head priestess sought help at the guards' barracks. She ran inside, looking for the guard captain, knowing that he would be able to help. She knew the captain would do anything in his power to find and, if necessary, save his student. When she couldn't find the captain in the barracks, she asked one of the guards where he was.

"He went out 'cause there was some kinda commotion goin' on. Somethin' about priestesses runnin' 'round askin' about some missing kid. I dunno, he told me t' stay here just in case someone came 'round askin' for 'im," explained the young guardswoman.

The head priestess promptly thanked the guard, then left. She didn't think she'd be able to find the captain with what's going on, so she changed her plan to the backup. Within minutes, she ran into the adventurers guild. She knew he was here somewhere. She finally found him and walked up to the boy's other trainer; the veteran fencer. Even if he denied it, the head priestess knew that he truly cared for the boy.

"Oh, miss head priestess. What, uh, what're you doing here," the veteran fencer asked, confused.

"We need your help! We can't find him anywhere! He's been gone all day and nobody's seen him all day! Please, help us find him," the priestess pleaded, nearly crying.

"Calm down. I can't really follow what you're saying. First of all, whose missing?

The priestess took a few deep breaths, calming herself enough to talk coherently.

"You know the boy you train sometimes? Yeah, he's the one that's gone missing. Could you help us look for him? Please?

"Yeah, I guess I'll help you. It'd make me look bad if I didn't help look for a missing kid. Especially if a priestess asked. Let's go."

Before they could thank him, the fencer escorted the priestess out of the adventurers guild. Even though he acted as if he didn't care, the fencer had to resist the urge to run and settled for a fast walk. The priestess had to jog just to barely keep up with the fencer. Even if the fencer had acted distant, his restrained urgency proved just how much he truly cared for his student. He knew where the boy usually found his odd jobs, and started questioning the people who gave the boy work. After a few people, the fencer finally made it to the blacksmiths.

"Hey, you seen that kid with the weird eye today? Apparently nobody's seen him all day."

"Yeah I seen him, he came in to get some new equipment to train in. Got some leather armor with chainmail, a wooden buckler and shortsword. He wanted a full suit of metal armor and a longsword, but I talked him outta those. He has an archer's shortsword. Better for him to be able to move around than to be lumbering around, trying to swing a sword to heavy for him."

"Any idea where he went afterwards?"

"Maybe the apothecary? Heard him muttering something about antidotes and 'having to stop the attack.' Something about training I guess."

The fencer now had a second target to question. He left without thanking the blacksmith, a seed of worry now growing larger. "Why did the kid need antidotes?" "What did he mean about stopping the attack?" "What attack was he talking about?" These questions kept bothering the fencer. The fencer explained what had happened to the priestess while hurrying to the apothecary's. He was nearly running by this point, the priestess just keeping up with him. The fencer nearly burst into the apothecary shop.

"Hey! The kid that was here earlier,do you know where he went after leaving here," the fencer, almost shouting, asked.

"Ah, stop screaming at me! Yes, that kid came in here and got some antidotes useful for crude poisons. He said he was getting them for some adventurer. Pretty sure he was lying, since he ran off toward the temple, not the guild."

The fencer sprinted out of the apothecary shop, heading toward the temple. After listening to the apothecary, he had an idea of what the boy was planning. The priestess was running as hard she could just to keep the fencer in her line of sight. She wished she had trained more. If she had stayed an adventurer, she may have been able to catch up to the fencer. She yelled at the fencer to ask where they going. When he had responded with "the temple" it was almost as if she had gained a burst of speed, fueled only by panic.

When they had arrived at the temple, they had seen the guard captain waiting outside, as if for them. There was look of concern when he saw the priestess. He had some news, still trying to decide if it was bad news or not. He had been trying to figure out what to say when the fencer and priestess walked up to him, panting. The priestess could already see the troubled look in the captain's eye.

"Ms. head priestess, Mr. adventurer. I can assume you know why Im here. You DO know why I'm here, don't you?" The guard captain, despite his deep, rumbling voice, scars, gruff demeanor and size, was actually a very caring person.

"You're also looking for the kid, I guess? Yeah, ms. priestess here couldn't find you so she ran to be and asked for my help."

"That's good, good. Even if it cost her more, it's always better to have an experienced adventurer rather than some kind of greenhorn."

"Yeah. She's... not paying me. I'm doing this job pro bono. That means I'm not charging her. I… I train this kid sometimes and I've come to like him, so I don't want him to get hurt."

The guard captain nodded in agreement, since that's pretty much the second reason he's here. The first being that it's his job to protect the people of this village.

"Well, I think i know where the kid went. I looked around the temple and the temple grounds and found something that, well, you just need to see."

The guard captain led them around to the back of the temple, then to a spot, almost in the nearby forest.

"Look at these tracks. You know what kinda creature makes tracks like these? You, , should know."

"Yes, I know what kind of prints these are. And, judging from these boot prints over here, someone else knows too. This is bad."

The priestess didn't know what the two were talking about. All she could see was a bunch of small footprints with a slightly larger set of boot prints. She had to ask what all these prints meant, but from what the captain and fencer said, it was nothing good.

"What do all these prints mean? Do you know where he went? Is he in danger?"

The fencer was the first to answer, "All these tracks mean there's a goblins' nest nearby. They were preparing to attack the village. These larger boot prints, though. These are probably the kid's tracks. He might have went to attack the nest before the goblins attack the village. We need to find the nest, and fast. The kids in danger. It's hard enough for experienced adventurers to take on a whole goblins nest. It might as well be impossible for the kid. Let's go."

With that, the trio ran into the trees, following the tracks. The priestess, praying to the gods, praying for the boys safety.

While the guard captain, fencer and the priestess ran, the boy kept going, already halfway through the nest. He doesn't know how many goblins he's killed by this point, could be 20, could be 200, he doesn't know or care. As long as they go down and stay dead, he doesn't care what the goblins do. If he can destroy the nest, he doesn't care what happens to him.

The boy stops moving, holds his breath, listening. He listens closely and hears a noise: bare feet running along the ground. He can't tell how many pairs, but knows it can't be more than four. He readies hisself, tightening his grip on the sword hilt, preparing his shield arm. He waits, he listens, footsteps getting closer. A few more seconds go by, the boy now hears breathing. A couple of more seconds go by and he prepares to slash at a goblins neck. He waits for the right time. Now. He opens his eyes quickly and slashes. A goblin, in the middle of attacking, falls to the ground, blood gushing from its neck. As the first goblin lay on the ground, dying with a horrible, wet gurgle, the boy raises his shield, blocking the attack of the next goblin. Before the goblin can mount a second attack, the boy plunges his sword through the creatures abdomen, injuring it, but not killing it. He uses his shield to knock the weapon from the goblins hand, then rushes forward, slamming the impaled goblin into the final one. The final goblin crushes its allies skull in with a club, killing it while being driven back by the boy. The final goblin falls to the ground, landing on its back. The last thing the goblin sees is the edge of a shield, rushing towards its head. The boy removes his shield from the crushed skull of the goblin. He takes a few seconds to examine his sword, trying to figure out if he should keep using it. After examining his sword, he decides to keep using it for now. The boy continues deeper into the nest, lamp on his hip, and a small, yellow glow, emanating from his pale yellow eye.

As the boy continues deeper into the nest, he encounters more goblins, killing each as he comes across them, then taking their weapons, replacing the previous one. By the time he reaches the end of the nest, the boy is carrying a hand axe, instead of using his sheathed sword. Instead of just walking in, the boy uses his lamp to light an oil covered club, then tosses the club into the final chamber. In the instant the chamber is lit by the burning club, the boy sees a goblin shaman, three goblins and a hobgoblin. As he sprints into the final chamber, he throws the axe at the shamans head, he hopes it hits. He thanks the gods when the axe hits its target, cleaving the shaman's skull in two. He keeps running, then rips the axe from the shaman's skull, immediately turning to the three goblins. Before the goblins can react, the boy swings his axe down, chopping into the first goblins skull, leaving it there, no time to wrench it free. Pushing hisself, he sprints forward, lodging his shield in the next goblins mouth, pushing it forward and lifting its feet off the ground. He keeps going, running towards the third goblin, weaponless. He prepares for the attack from the third goblin, already seeing its death in his mind. The goblins sword slashes at his side, just below the end of his chainmail. He feels the sword cut through his flesh, but not pain. He grabs the third goblin by the head and lifts it just enough to where its feet don't reach the ground. Pushing his legs to keep moving, he runs toward the cave wall. Closing his eyes just moments before impact, he slams the his shield and the goblin into the cave wall. The impact severs the brain stem of the goblin on his shield, paralyzing it before killing it. He slams the third goblins head into the wall, not killing it, but cracking its skull and dazing it. Immediately after impact, he dropped the goblin to the ground, then takes the blade from the paralyzed goblin and thrusts it into the chest of the third goblin, piercing its heart, killing it.

He turns around, seeing the hobgoblin. He knows that hobs are stronger and more dangerous than a regular goblin. He doesn't know just how strong they can be, so he takes no chances. He clears his mind and prepares to use his hidden attack. He focuses his attention at the hob, preparing his blade, as if to stab. He begins to chant.

"Power of the storms, heed my call. Surge through my blade and kill my foe. Strike them true and strike them down. I call on the power of the storm: lighting bolt!"

As they run through the caves, passing body after body of goblin, they hear a deafening boom. They have no chance to cover their ears as the noise roars through the cave, but it only lasts an instant before passing. They look from one another, seeing only worried looks from each other.

"What… what was that," the guard captain could barely whisper, in awe and fear.

"I don't know, but we're lucky that that noise lasted only an instant," the fencer spoke, voice unsteady.

"That," the priestess paused, trying to make her voice sound more clear and confidant, "sounded like thunder. But, we're in a cave and it's perfectly clear outside. Do you think…"

They pause for a few moments before dashing forward, worried for the boy. They can only assume the worst, expecting to find the boy dead, surrounded by other charred bodies, killed by an explosion somehow. The thought that the boy knew a single spell never crossed their mind and why would it? To their knowledge, the boy knew only basic swordsmanship and nothing else.

They see a light, made by fire, in the end of the tunnels. They burst into the final chambers, panicked. They see no charred corpses, no dead children, only dead, mutilated goblins. They hear a heavy breathing and find the source. They see the boy, his back to them, breathing heavily, almost panting, facing a fallen hobgoblin. They have no idea what to think of this scene before their eyes. A child of no more than thirteen, surrounded by dead goblins, a dead goblin shaman, and a dead hobgoblin without a single cut on its body. They look closer and see what look like small tendrils of smoke, drifting up from the body of the hobgoblin. They slowly walk up to the boy, scared and confused. They speak to him, all at once.

"Boy-"

"Kid-"

"My son-"

They're cut off as he turns toward them and they see the extent of his injuries. Cuts and small gashes all over his body, blood dripping off his jaw, punctures near his chest, abdomen and legs, and one large, bloody gash on his right hip. He stands on shaking legs, the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion setting in. As the boy sees them, he smiles and collapses, all his strength gone.

He weakly utters four words, "I saved the village," just before losing consciousness.

The guard captain gently, yet firmly, lifts the boy off the ground and carries him back to the village, escorted by the head priestess and the fencer.

Back in the temple, the boy rests, and the full extent of his injuries is revealed. Along with his initial injuries, he also has a broken leg, two bite wounds on his shoulder, two cuts on his scalp as he had taken his helmet off after a goblin had dented it, a long, shallow cut across his forehead, three cuts along his back, an arrow wound through his right thigh and a broken arrow in his upper arm, almost right between his shoulder and elbow. It's a miracle he lived through those injuries. Since that night, he has always been more careful in combat.

Memories flash through his mind, gone in an instant. They're quick, but he sees them in full clarity. He sees his first few years at the temple, the first time he killed a goblins nest, the first time he came close to death. He realizes he paused on his way to his party, and sees a worried look in the eyes of a party member.

He was in a party of five, including hisself. They referred to each other with nicknames. There was the female dwarven knight they called Red, only because of her hair, red as the setting sun. Red was the one who initially invited him to join their party. She was nice to everyone and anyone, unless given a reason not to. She was also the one who came with all their nicknames except her own. Despite being a dwarf, she had only drank alcohol once and immediately detested it. She vowed to never drink again. Then there was Goldylocks, their half-elf, half-human healer. Goldylocks was elven on his father's side. He was nice to everyone and had a "thing" for guys that wore heavy armor. Even though they often ask, Goldylocks always avoids telling them why he likes guys who wear heavy armor. After Goldylocks, there was Shorty, the rhean ranger. Even if he was a bit rude at times, they all knew he cared for them, despite what he says. When asked why he's a ranger, he just says he's trying to go against the stereotype that all rhea are thieves. Last, but not least, was Greenie. She was their mage. The party has to lie about what her race is. If they told people what her father was, she would most likely be killed. Whenever someone asked, they would say that she was an elf who got cursed and now has light green skin and yellow eyes and, in almost every way, she was just an elf. She was sensitive to insults and was the only person Shorty would never insult. The rest of the party was highly protective of her.

As the spellsword sat down with his party, Red spoke up.

"Good morning Scars. How was your night? Which version of your dream did you have this time?" Red was the one who could always ask the questions the others couldn't. They don't know what they would have done without her. She was their pillar and the glue that held them together.

"Last night's dream was the one where I relive what really happened. It is still one of the best versions. Only two versions beat it."

They knew which versions he was talking about: the one where he saves his younger sister and the one where his village successfully defends against the goblin attack. They knew he accepted what had happened, even if he wished he could change it. No matter what happened, they would always stick by each other.


End file.
